


Femslash February: Dragon Age Edition

by avesnongrata



Series: Femslash February [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:44:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avesnongrata/pseuds/avesnongrata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the (shorter) Dragon Age ficlets I wrote for Femslash February.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Do This More Often (Hawke/Isabela, T)

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings and ratings are indicated in the chapter title.

Isabela flops down onto Hawke's rumpled bed, a huge, satisfied grin on her face. "We should do this more often, you and I."

"Isabela," Hawke laughs, "we've done this six times in the last four hours. If we do it any more often, this city will probably fall to ruin within a week."

"So?" Isabela challenges. Her hands continue to wander over Hawke's exposed skin, and she presses greedy kisses along her collarbone every few words. "To hell with Kirkwall. We'll find a new city. Thedas is full of them, you know."

"I didn't think you liked cities, sailor," Hawke teases. Her body is still slick with sweat and starting to get a little sore, but Isabela's touch quickly coaxes the heat to rise between her legs again.

"Exactly! If we have so much sex that the city implodes, we'll have no choice but to run away to sea. I see no problem with this plan."


	2. Bathtime (Hawke/Isabela, T)

"I'm using your bathtub," Isabela announces, striding through the foyer and across the great hall without so much as a hello.

Hawke barely looks up from the dagger she's sharpening. "Why?"

"I need a bath!"

"Well, I certainly won't argue with that," Hawke chuckles. Isabela only responds with an eloquent – albeit obscene – hand gesture before stomping up the stairs. Hawke rolls her eyes, sets the dagger aside, and follows her. "That doesn't explain why you're using _my_ tub."

"Yours is much bigger than mine," Isabela explains, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "and you have much nicer soap."

"That is also true," Hawke concedes. For a moment – only a moment – the sight of Isabela tugging off her boots and unlacing her bodice freezes Hawke in her tracks.  "Wait a minute! Who says I'll let you use my nice things, Isabela?"

"You can join me, if you'd like," Isabela calls behind her as she lets the last scrap of her clothing fall to the floor.

With a small shake of her head, Hawke steps forward and slips her arms around Isabela's waist. "Was this your plan all along?"

"Perhaps."


	3. Give Me Everything You've Got (Hawke/Isabela, M)

Hawke grabs at Isabela's hips so hard and so suddenly that her palm inadvertently smacks against her bare ass. Before she can apologize, however, Isabela lets out a throaty moan and grinds back against her.

"Do it again."

Hawke laughs, but Isabela doesn't seem to be joking. She shrugs. "If you say so."

She lifts her hand, and after the briefest hesitation, brings it down sharply. The solid crack of skin against skin rings out, followed a split second later by a delicious grunt from Isabela. The sound and the tingling in her palm have Hawke's cheeks flushing in an instant. The next blow is harder, and the next, and the next, each with a full swing and a follow-through that drives Isabela forward against the pillows.

Again, and again, and _again_.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" Isabela's teasing gasp cuts through the fog of _want_ that Hawke finds herself lost in.

She blinks down at Isabela somewhat dumbly. "What?" 

"Your pupils are enormous," Isabela purrs, rich as velvet. "It almost looks like you're possessed."

For a moment, all Hawke can think of is slapping Isabela around to convince Castillon's man that she was betraying her. It was all an act then, and a painful one at that. Still, there was something intimately satisfying about her fist connecting with Isabela's jaw. She'd blocked it out at the time, but now that Isabela's life is not at stake and the immediacy of pounding adrenaline is no longer a factor, she realizes that Isabela is absolutely right.

"I do like this," Hawke murmurs, a sly grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Isabela laughs and arches her back, shamelessly and enthusiastically offering up her ass. "Then come on, sweet thing, give me everything you've got."


	4. Imagination (Aveline/Isabela, M)

With a frustrated growl, Aveline unclenches her fists from around her bedsheets and slips a hand under them. A sudden flare of heat between her legs took her by surprise earlier in the evening, around the time Isabela clapped a hand to her back and dryly thanked her for saving her ass. Now, this stubborn ache is apparently going to refuse to let her sleep unless she does something to assuage it.

Very well.

This isn't the first time she's touched herself over these past few years -- not by far -- nor will it be the last. By this point, she's nearly gotten it down to a science. It's just one more thing her body needs, like stretching out her muscles after a good, hard fight.

She sighs with relief as her fingers brush over her clit.

Sometimes her mind conjures up a particular face to help her along, but tonight she opts to think of some alluring stranger. No need for details to get in the way; she's slick and sensitive enough already. This won't take long. All she needs is the thought of a warm weight settling on top of her, holding her down. Strong, soft thighs straddling her hips. Long, dark hair falling--

Her fingers still. _No_. She's fantasizing about a _stranger_. No one in particular. Certainly not that degenerate poor-excuse-for-a-pirate. Perhaps she needs some details to anchor her after all.

Her hand picks up the pace between her thighs again as she pictures broad shoulders, a deep chest, strong arms wrapping around her. Dexterous, clever fingers making short work of the laces of her top. Full, dark breasts spilling out of a tight white bodice...

Maker! What is wrong with her?

Aveline clenches her jaw and squeezes her eyes shut tight. She imagines the prickle of a beard and the heat of hungry lips at her throat. Her breath hitches as she thinks about said lips working their way lower, _lower_... 

What would it feel like, she wonders suddenly, to have Isabela take her nipple in her mouth? Would she be able to feel the inner edge of that stud in her bottom lip? Aveline's hips buck and she gasps in surprise at how undeniably hot the idea is. Oh, how Isabela would taunt her if she knew...

Her fingers work even faster against her clit. She really should stop. She should find something else, someone else, _anyone_ else to fantasize about, but she's so close. Just a little more, and she'll finally be able to sleep. So what if she can't keep Isabela's hands or eyes or lips out of her mind? It's not like anyone else needs to know.

With a long, low moan, Aveline chases her orgasm and rides it, shuddering, to the ground.


End file.
